


Plan's Fruition

by Alphabaetafish



Series: Monthly Eskapades [2]
Category: Those Who Went Missing (Roleplay)
Genre: October 2020 Monthly Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphabaetafish/pseuds/Alphabaetafish
Summary: General has been planning ages for her first transformation, but that doesn't stop the pressure getting to her. October 2020 Prompt: Harvest.
Series: Monthly Eskapades [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084973





	Plan's Fruition

Every night the temperature drops closer to freezing. Leaves, already weary from the constant breeze of city traffic, quiver dangerously on their stems. Their green bled into burning orange and smouldering red, transforming the green spaces into an autumnal wonderland. For a few weeks at least, the winter is held at bay, and souls of all shapes and sizes rush to take advantage of the last shreds of comfortable weather.

Overlooking the grand central park, balanced carefully on a wire stretched taught between two buildings, General allowed the wind to brush over her fur and lazily wave her moss like twin flags. She held her slate close to her body, shivering slightly not from the cold, but from excitement and a small dose of anxiety. The fall was her favourite season; spending hours lounging on the warm stone walkways of the park with her creator watching squirrels gorge themselves on fallen acorns. The smell of warm cinnamon as she passes by a studio window, a young artist inspired by the splashes of vibrant colour in an otherwise muddied industrial district. The bountiful energy being sloughed off the plants preparing themselves for hibernation and the final farewell of annual flowers. The autumn provided a feast of energy for her and her kind, bolstered all the more by the thinning of the curtain between their reality and the humans’. General genuinely tried to be careful, but with so much spiritual power in the air she’d already been spotted twice this month. Ah well, no harm done she supposed.

General allowed herself to fall forward, landing with a soft splash in a puddle. She padded smoothly out of the alley, rounding the corner to slink in the direction of the city’s Old District. As she went, concrete and skyscrapers of glass gave way to stout brick storefronts and café patios draped in decorations. Her eyes narrowed in a pseudo-smile as she passed an elderly couple bundled in scarves, debating over which pumpkin would be the perfect size for their grandchild.

She was close now; she had been scoping this place out for months to make sure it got just enough patronage, just enough old magic to support the fruition of her plan. She’d never done this before, and while she was excited to breathe life into a creation of her own, she worried her control would slip. That she would do it wrong and bring forth a tortured and weary soul. She felt no prejudice for Trespassers, far from it. The thought of Milios drifted through her mind before she dismissed it firmly. They still weren’t back on speaking terms. She’d be damned if she allowed those conflicted emotions to channel into her transformation.

General slowed to a stop in front of a deep brown building with Victorian windows, their black frames carefully restored over the last few weeks; the finishing touch to a project years in the making for a quiet young man. Above the storefront ‘Ashton Apothecary’ read in gold gilded letters. General allowed herself to phase through the door, humming softly at the aroma of lavender and old parchment. A myriad of jars and containers lined the walls on both sides, the far wall blocked off by a counter and archaic cash register, a more modern debit machine snuggled up beside it. Behind the counter was an amazing display of butterflies and moths from around the world, lovingly pinned and preserved in individual wooden frames. General scanned the store, poking her head into the staff room to see it too was empty. Good, she thought, I’d hate to have an audience with so little experience.

Her tendrils traced the edges of the frames as she paced along the length of the back wall. In the lower right corner of the display she spotted her target. A delicate label identified the specimen in black archival ink; Acherontia styx, the death’s head moth. Her tendrils hooked under the frame, lifting it gently from its hook. She carried it to the centre of the room and placed it gingerly on the wooden floor. General took a step back, breathing deeply. She had saved so much energy for this moment, planned for so long.

She inhaled deeply, focus narrowing on the little moth. Exhaling, she let her power flow. Melodious clinking rang through the room, jars vibrating. Faintly, at first, though quickly grew into a cacophony of noise. General flinched as a small jar shattered to her left, spilling an odd pastel powder into the cracks of the worn floorboards. She felt a trickle of frustration take root; she had to hurry; the humans outside surely would notice soon. All it would take was one gifted human to wander by, glance in through the window, and her precious moment would be ruined. She reached out her aura, brushing against the faint residual scraps of a soul the moth held while alive. She channeled her power through their bond, coaxing the broken soul to heal, to grow, to burn.

On that autumn day, a new spirit was born.

**Author's Note:**

> AP Breakdown  
> Base Score: 16 AP (Writing: 842 words)  
> +10 AP (Monthly Prompt)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)  
> Total AP per submission: 39
> 
> GP Breakdown  
> Base Score: 8 GP (Writing: 842 words)  
> +1 GP (Monthly Prompt)  
> +6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)  
> Total GP per submission: 15


End file.
